


That Escalated Quickly

by piratekelly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Failwolf Friday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratekelly/pseuds/piratekelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and stairs are not on good terms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Escalated Quickly

"Der--" Stiles pants, abruptly cut off by the feel of Derek's blunt teeth nipping his jaw, just below his ear. "Derek, we gotta move, man."

"Mmph."

"No, for real," Stiles groans, struggling to push Derek away, though with Derek's hands moving their way under his shirt, it's considerably more difficult than it was when he should have said this ten minutes ago. "I know hobo-chic is really in for you right now, and that's fine, minimalist living, and I'm a huge fan of the giant hole in the wall, very airy and bright, but I've got at least three springs poking me in the back and I don't know about you, but intense discomfort is sort of a boner kill for me."

"Mmph." 

"No, please, stop talking, you're killing me." Oh, now he's nosing around Stiles' collarbone and Derek's hands are on the bare skin of his lower back and yeah, he can already feel that his ability to stress location, location, location to Derek is quickly flying out the window. Derek knows how much he loves this. Bastard. "Derek, get off --"

"That's the idea." And before Stiles has a chance to snark back - and he would, he'd totally snark back, snark is his default setting, just call him Stiles "So Much Snark It Replaced My Sense Of Self-Preservation" Stilinski - he's being tossed over Derek's shoulder in a way that has to violate the laws of physics because he was just on his back and now he's staring at Derek's very fine ass and wait. No. This isn't happening. Not again.

"Derek, where are we going?" 

"Where do you think, Stiles?"

And that, that is just so not good, because last time?

"Okay, Wolverine, do I need to remind you of what happened the last time you decided to carry me up the stairs?"

Derek stops.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

…

_It started out much like the present moment. It's just another warm, sunny summer day in Beacon Hill; Stiles is watching the pack train while doing research so that maybe they'll all live to graduate high school (or, in Derek's case, complete sentences) and staring at a shirtless Derek Hale as he wrestles with Isaac. It's not like this is the first time he's seen Derek shirtless; they've been doing whatever it is they're doing (and by "whatever" he means "having really incredible sex that might, in some states, be illegal based on his age alone") for a few months now, so he's mostly desensitized to the sight of Derek's perfectly sculpted abs, lines of sweat running down from his collarbone, disappearing into the waist of his jeans, and fuck._

_He doesn't have to be a werewolf to know that's a lie._

_So even after having sex with that on multiple occasions the sight alone manages to get him going, sue him. He's seventeen. That's sort of how this works._

_It's when his imagination starts to get away from him that things start to happen._

_"Stiles?" And oh, that's Derek. Right in front of him. Still shirtless. And sweaty. And so attractive it's physically painful to look at him. Stiles licks his lips. He wants on that, and he wants on it now. He can see the second Derek picks up on the scent of his arousal, eyes darkening, breathing growing heavier the longer the silence continues._

_"Everyone go home?"_

_Derek nods, already reaching for Stiles, pulling him up from the porch steps and up against his chest._

_He only gets a second to whisper out a quick fuck yes before Derek's lips crash down against his, and Stiles knows they'll be puffy and bruised tomorrow, but he doesn't care, because all he feels is the heat from Derek's body and his stubble against Stiles' chin and his hands struggling for purchase against the sweaty skin of Derek's back as Derek picks him up, and his legs wrap around Derek's waist. Their hips line up perfectly, creating just enough friction to get them by until they can get somewhere horizontal, twin moans released into the forest, loud as they please. Stiles continues his assault on Derek's mouth, biting Derek's bottom lip, kissing him so hard their teeth click, as Derek leads them into the house._

_Derek has never carried Stiles to his room before, much prefers to drag him in there like the caveman Derek is, leaving Stiles stumbling to keep up with him, tripping as he follows Derek up the stairs. Stiles expects the same thing every time he comes over, and while he enjoys it that way, likes that Derek can't wait to get his hands on him, this way is good, too. Maybe even better._

_That is, until, the Ominous Crunch of Doom ruins everything, and Stiles flies out of Derek's arms, landing back first on the rotted out staircase, Derek knocking the breath out of him as he falls on Stiles' chest. Once his equilibrium evens out yet again - and really, this has to stop, Stiles is clumsy enough without screwing up his center of gravity - he looks down and sees Derek with his face pressed in to Stiles' stomach, hands wrapped around the back of his neck, squeezing in frustration, and both feet stuck where the first step gave out under their combined weight._

_"Ow."_

_Derek doesn't even bother lifting his head, just mutters into Stiles' t-shirt, "Is it possible we could pretend this never happened and keep going?"_

_Stiles snorts. "Not a chance. I think the third step is permanently embedded into my spine."_

…

"So, you wanna put me down?"

"Absolutely." Once Stiles is upright, Derek can see the shit-eating grin spreading across his face and Stiles knows, just knows, that Derek is anticipating what he'll say next.

"I'm never more turned on than when you actually listen to me."

"Shut up," Derek growls, pushing Stiles towards the spiral staircase. "Shut up, before I decide that carrying you up these stairs while you hit your head on every rung on the way up is preferable to having sex."

"You wouldn't. You prefer me fully-functioning and monosyllabic. Hitting me over the head gets me whiny at best."

"I hate you."

"You know, when I said you needed a new place to stay, I meant one that didn't still have holes in various areas."

"Stiles." And oh, alpha eyes. Goddammit.

"Shutting up."

And Stiles does.

He can always warn Derek to watch out for the bottom step when they leave.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a pun on stairs. Because I'm funny. Ha. Ha... 
> 
> (I'm actually not funny, I'm just too lazy to come up with anything creative and I'm a fan of shitty puns.)
> 
> I posted this to Tumblr probably a year ago (or more) when Failwolf Friday was becoming a thing and my friend Meagan was like, "this needs to see the light of day" so here we are. She's an enabler like that.


End file.
